The Reluctant Adventurer
by Temple Cloud
Summary: Beira had never meant to join an adventuring party. She had been happy preaching the good news of the god Lathander to the town of Nyth, and healing the sick. But her own errors of judgement, and supernatural attacks outside her control, force her to throw in her lot with a disaster-prone group of heroes.
1. Chapter 1

Some people say paladins are adventurers by definition. I've never been convinced of that. I know I have the build of a fighter ('built like a siege engine' was what people said ever since I was a little girl), but all I've ever wanted to do was to serve Lathander and help people, and I was as well able to do that by healing people and preaching the good news of Lathander as by going around slaying orcs. After all, one of the best and wisest people I've ever known was an orc who used to travel around the mountains with his human wife, trying to educate the orc tribes who lived up there, and educate humans not to massacre orc children merely for being grey.

Indeed, Nutt the Wise was one of the most important influences on my life. I don't know whether he believed in any gods (though I remember that one of his friends was a cleric of Om), but his goodness made me want to seek the source of holiness, and that is what led me to faith in Lathander. I know I'm not as bright as Nutt (otherwise I'd have liked to train as a doctor), but I'm glad to be able to let Lathander work through me to heal. And I'm a naturally persuasive person, which helped in my work as a missionary when I was sent to the City of Nyth. Now I wonder if my being too persuasive has just made things worse for everyone.

What really made things worse, though, is that I'm an idiot. I was walking on the beach when I noticed a ring glinting in the sand. That should have made me suspicious in itself, as (a) I walk along the beach at dawn to watch Lathander raising the sun on his shoulders and to meditate on his beauty, not to look for trinkets in the sand, and (b) I'm the most unobservant person I know. Looking back, I think the ring must have been calling to me, forcing me to pay attention to it.

If you're wondering whether I picked it up and immediately put it on, I wasn't _quite_ that stupid. I put it in my pocket so that I could find its owner and hand it back, as soon as I had a free moment. Just now, I had duties back at the Temple, but they wouldn't take me long. Several of the people who had come to faith in Lathander after I arrived in Nyth were now ordained clerics, and Emmrietta, who had become the Dawnlord in Nyth, was certainly someone I could rely on. She had been running the church for the last few years, only occasionally needing to seek my advice or help with anything. Fairly soon, I'd probably be sent off on another missionary journey.

I was glad to have people I could rely on, as I was starting to feel seriously ill as I walked back to the Temple. I could see that the sun had risen some way in the sky, but I couldn't feel its warmth. I was shivering, my arms were covered in goose-pimples, and my nipples were hard and shrunken. Nothing I could do – rubbing my arms to try to chafe some life back into them, trying to walk briskly, buying a cup of tea from a seashore drinks vendor, putting a coat on when I got back – made any difference. I just felt weak and exhausted. Also, either I was hallucinating, or the ring was glowing an icy blue.

I tried to call on Lathander to heal me, but it was as if he had ceased to exist. The sun might as well have been just a ball of fire in the sky, as the Omnians believe, rather than the sign of Lathander's blessing.

And then I heard the ring speaking to me. '_Beira? Beira Lightbringer?_'

'Yes, that's right,' I said. 'Don't worry, I'm not stealing you. I'm just going to use a Locate Person spell to find your master and bring you back.'

'_I don't have a master,_' the ring said sadly. '_I hoped you would be my master. I think – I think I've been wanting to find you all my life._'

All right, I know listening to a talking ring, let alone trusting it, is idiotic, but it sounded the way I had felt when I first came to believe in Lathander. Maybe even rings need someone to love, I thought. I put it on – and, of course, it was a cursed ring, controlled by an ice demon, and it turned out to be impossible to take off.

'Lathander forgive me!' I thought – and that reminded me of something. Nutt – who, despite being an orc, was the gentlest person I've ever met, and usually regarded his enemies as sick in the mind and in need of healing, rather than evil – nevertheless carried an axe which his cleric friend had given him, for beheading vampires with. The axe was called Forgiveness. If I wanted forgiveness, I needed to show I was truly sorry. Only if I cut my finger off could I prevent the ice demon from controlling me through the ring.

I went out to a shed where I found an axe that one of the novices had been using to chop firewood. I gave the axe a brief wipe on my robe, and laid my finger on the chopping block. I hoped I wouldn't make a mess of this. I'm not particularly clumsy, but not spectacularly skilled at precision tasks, and I was wearing the ring on the first finger of my left hand, which is my dominant hand, meaning that I had to raise the axe with my right. If I misjudged it, I could lose more of my hand than just the one finger, but it would still be worth it if…

'Beira! NO! It was Emmrietta, who must have realised there was something wrong with me, and followed me to see if I needed any help.

I put down the axe, and turned to face her with my most terrifying glare. 'Are you questioning my judgement?'

'Yes,' said Emmrietta bravely. 'Haven't you always taught us: _There is always another dawn_? You're not well, and you're not thinking clearly.'

'No,' I admitted. I hadn't been. If I had chopped off my finger without looking around for intruders, someone else instead of Emmrietta – maybe a thief – might have had the chance to steal the ring, finger and all. I was barely able to stop the demon from taking possession of my brain, and had failed to restrain myself from putting it on in the first place, and I'm one of the most strong-willed – all right, pig-headed – people I know. If I couldn't control it, what might it do to someone more susceptible?

I let Emmrietta lead me to a secluded room in the Temple, safely away from all sharp objects and with a bed covered in thick blankets, and lock me in. She left only to fetch me hot drinks and hot-water-bottles, and to organise people to heat more hot water to give me a bath. Nothing helped much, although having a warm bath each morning did at least defrost the crust of ice that grew on my body every time I slept. My room didn't have a fire in the grate, as Emmrietta was worried that I might stick my hand into the fire. There was underfloor heating, but somehow nothing could make me feel less cold. I felt as though I was in my eighties rather than my early forties.

I lost track of time after a while. All I could do was concentrate on stopping the ring from taking control of me completely. From time to time, I asked Emmrietta how things were going, and what the weather was like outside. My room had no windows, so I couldn't even see Lathander's light, but Emmrietta said it was best if I just rested and concentrated on recovering. I wished I could look out of the window and remind myself that it was summer out there, even if I felt as if I was in the depths of winter. I knew it was shallow and selfish to want luxuries, but I couldn't help wishing that sometimes, Emmrietta could have time to bring in some colourful flowers, or a few strawberries or raspberries for dessert, instead of just potato and onion soup. But I knew how tiring it must be for her, caring for a patient who bled on the bedclothes from cracked and chapped skin (and from my hand where the ring dug into it), and who covered them with ice so that they took ages to dry out, so I didn't say anything about flowers or fruit.

I didn't realise what was going on outside until one day when I heard shouting and screaming, and the smashing of wood. Even though the ring, cutting me off from Lathander, had taken away my ability to sense the undead – let alone drive them off – I could hear that something was badly wrong. Emmrietta tried to soothe me and warn me to keep still and quiet, but I ignored her. I struggled out of bed, keeping my left hand thrust into my dressing-gown pocket to hide the flare of light coming from the ring.

I made my way out into the corridor and found – bodies. Nearly everyone in the Temple – the people I had become good friends with over the past six years – was dead. Those who had merely been murdered were the lucky ones. The unlucky had been ritually sacrificed to the evil god Shub-Niggurath and turned into undead. I could see the bodies of people I had counselled, prayed with, and led meditation classes with, now reaching out to me, chanting, 'Give – us – the power! Give – us – the power – for – our – Master!'

I was furious. How _dare_ anyone turn the kind, joyous, hope-filled young clerics they had been into this? Before I knew what I was doing, I lifted my left hand and held it up, as if I was a true paladin again and casting Turn the Unholy. The ring's blue light flared out in rays that froze the undead, who toppled to the ground and shattered like icicles. There were more behind the ones I had frozen, trying to force their way into the Temple, but I managed to push the doors closed and draw the bolt across them. Instead of feeling relieved that the souls of the dead were free from the curse of being undead, I just felt sick as I realised that if I had lost control any earlier, I might just as easily have frozen Emmrietta. I stuffed my hand back into my pocket and went back into my room.

'You stay there,' Emmrietta said, after one glance at me. 'I'll go out and drive off the rest of them.' I was too tired and horrified to argue.

After a while, I managed to subdue the ring, so that its piercing glare died down to a fainter glow which didn't seem to shatter anyone. I think I managed to fall asleep for a while, though I'm not sure for how long. The only candle in my room had burned down to nothing, leaving the glare from my ring as the only light. When I woke, the Temple seemed almost silent, but I could hear footsteps that sounded as if they might be Emmrietta's. I waited, so that she wouldn't scold me for getting out of bed.

Without knocking, she opened my door and made her way towards my bed. She wasn't carrying a fresh candle, as she usually would. In fact, I realised when I lifted my ring to see her better, a candle wouldn't have done any good. Something – one of the undead? – had gouged out her eyes. Blood was streaming down her face, but she seemed oblivious to that. 'All right, then,' she snarled, in a tone of voice I had never heard her use before. 'Hand over the ring.'

'Emmrietta, it's all right,' I said (stopping myself just in time from asking anything as fatuous as 'Are _you_ all right?'). 'Just sit down on the bed, and I'll get some clean water and wash your wounds and bandage them.'

'I want the ring,' Emmrietta repeated. 'I have sworn to bring it to my Master.'

'Emmrietta Dowsomn, you are a cleric of Lathander,' I reminded her. 'You are the Dawnlord. So stop talking like an undead and let me take care of you.'

'Not any more!' said Emmrietta. 'I have seen the Dark.' She cackled and began to sing, insanely, '_The pe-o-ple that walkèd, that walkèd in brightness, have see-een a great dark!_' She grabbed at me, groping for my left hand, but I held her at arm's length with my right. There was snow on her robes and on her hair, which I had never seen in the time she was caring for me while I was cursed by the ring. Had I really been ill for so long that it was now winter?

'Emmrietta, it doesn't have to be like this,' I pleaded. 'You're going through a dark time, but there is always another dawn.' I realised too late that this wasn't the most tactful of metaphors to use on someone who had just been blinded. Emmrietta had blood on her own hands, and as far as I could make out, it was even under her fingernails. Had she torn her _own_ eyes out? 'If you've done something wrong, there is always forgiveness,' I tried. 'Lathander sends the sun's warmth on the righteous and sinners alike.' All right, this wasn't the theology I had been taught, but it was the best thing I could think of to say. Emmrietta wasn't listening anyway.

_[Author's note: this was the character I was given for my first ever RPG session – although I invented Beira's past friendship with Nutt, who is a hero of one of the Discworld novels. As I'd never played before, the DM created a suitable character who she thought would fit into her campaign, and sent me Beira's backstory. I've just tried to put it into my own words.]_


	2. Chapter 2

At this point I heard voices out in the corridor. 'Em, what are you up to?' (This one in a deep, rough voice that sounded like a dragon.) 'Are you all right?' (The squeaky voice of a gnome.) 'Does Em even know who she is any more?' (The musical tones of someone who might have elven blood.)

Four figures followed Emrietta into my room, all looking decidedly battered, presumably because they had been helping to fight off the armies of zombies. Like Emmrietta, they were spattered with snow. There were two tall, imposing dragonborn, one of whom had the rising-sun mark of Lathander on his forehead; a gnome wizard with an owl perched on his shoulder; and a half-elf who looked startlingly like pictures I had seen of King Rothgar of Quaffy. Perhaps he was some relative? There were rumours that clones had been made of Rothgar – perhaps one of them had escaped somehow? Still, there were more important things to deal with right now.

'Has anyone got a knife?' I asked. The dragonborn without the symbol of Lathander stepped forward. 'Can you cut my finger off, please? The one with this ring on?'

'What?' He looked shocked, as far as I could tell without being familiar with dragonborn facial expressions.

'It's a cursed ring, there's a demon who's trying to control me through it. I need to keep it _with_ me – it's hard enough for me to control it, I don't think anyone else could – it's _especially_ not a good idea for you, Emmrietta – but actually wearing it just gives it too much power. And, uh, have you got a bag to put it in?' I hoped I might be able to wear the severed finger in a bag round my neck until I found a suitable volcano to throw it and the ring into.

Reluctantly, the dragonborn lifted a knife in his strong, taloned paw and cut my finger off. It was agonising for a moment, and then my body surged with a feeling of warmth as Lathander's blessing came back to me once more. The stump of my finger healed instantly. Unfortunately, in the moment while we were distracted, Emmrietta made a grab for the severed finger. I tried to grab it before she could, but, as I've said, I'm not the deftest person, and having just lost a finger didn't help. Emmrietta grabbed the finger, and vanished. Not 'vanished' as in 'ran out of the open door and away', but simply dematerialised.

'Oh, no!' sighed the gnome. 'Next time we see Happy, he'll be wearing the ring on his paw!'

I wondered confusedly who Happy was. It sounded like a dwarven name, but that didn't make sense of the reference to his paw. In the meantime, I laid my hands on my battered rescuers to heal their wounds, and we introduced ourselves. The shifty-looking dragonborn with the mark of Lathander branded on his forehead was a warlock by the name of Kos, who, I learned, had an invisible pet pseudodragon. From the way the others behaved around him, they seemed to regard him as untrustworthy – though they seemed even more suspicious of the regal-looking elf. At any rate, if Lathander had marked the warlock in this way, there must be some goodness in his heart.

'It's always good to meet a fellow follower of Lathander,' I said. 'How long have you been a worshipper of the Morninglord?'

'Uh – about a day,' said Kos, looking embarrassed. The half-elf sniggered. Of course, Kos would be a recent convert – I knew that most dragonborn worshipped dragon gods, either Bahamut or the evil Tiamat. If Kos was a former devotee of Tiamat, it wasn't surprising that he wouldn't want to talk about his past – and I could only be glad that he had started on the journey towards the light.

'I'm Beira Lightbringer, paladin of Lathander,' I said, showing them the holy symbol I always wore on a chain around my neck.

'It looks like a hand,' said the half-elf sceptically. To be precise, it was half of a disk showing a pattern of two interlocking hands. I admit that it's a less common symbol of Lathander's worship than the rising sun, and it wasn't exactly surprising that most of the group hadn't heard of it.

'It's a rare symbol – a very old one,' said the gnome. 'I've seen it in books, but I hadn't seen someone wearing it before.'

I was glad to have an ally. I wanted to like Kos, but I felt more comfortable with the gnome, and with Kriv, the dragonborn who had cut my finger off. He was a calm, practical person who looked as if he might have been a military officer. The gnome, Bobbynock, introduced me to himself and to his owl, Mr Who. I had just asked the half-elf his name when we suddenly had more company: a band of angry-looking men.

'All right, you lot!' one of them snarled. 'You've caused enough trouble, bringing this infernal winter on us, and it's time you answered for your crimes!'

'That was my fault,' I put in at once. 'I mean, it wasn't intentional – I picked up a ring that turned out to have an ice demon in it, and I haven't been free of it until a few minutes ago, when these good people cut my finger off…'

'But then it got stolen,' put in Kos.

'But anyway, it wasn't their fault,' I repeated. 'Take me, but spare them.'

Something hard smacked into the back of my head, and I crumpled to the ground. I had just time to think, 'Why would someone called _Happy_ want a cursed ring?...' before I passed out.

When I woke, I tried to raise a hand to rub my aching head, but didn't get very far, as I was tied to a chair. I was in a warehouse and surrounded by crates with holes in. My holy symbol was gone, and, while I knew I ought to have enough faith for Lathander to work through me, with or without physical artefacts, the fact was that in practice I had never been able to make spells work without the pendant. For some religions, like Omnianism, holy symbols can be just symbols – the turtle as a reminder of the innocence and courage of the prophet Brutha, who had narrowly escaped being roasted to death on a metal turtle – but for me, it had always been more magical than that.

Standing in front of me was a big man with a red beard and hair. 'So, you thought you'd save your friends, did you?' he sniggered.

'What have you done with them?' I demanded, furious. Why had I been naïve enough to think that pleading for the innocent to be spared would make any difference? Why hadn't I fought?

'Oh, they're not here yet. But they will be. You, missy, are just the bait to bring them here to rescue you. They're going to hand themselves over to their old friend, Jeremy Wessell. Do you know what I've got concealed in each of these crates?'

I was too tired and headachey to answer.

'Men with _gonnes_,' leered Wessell. 'They're a weapon from another world, very useful, fire death without needing magic. Your friends are going to be shot so full of holes, you could use them for a colander.'

'I'm sorry to cause their deaths,' I said. 'But they're noble-hearted people, and they'll go to heaven. Where are _you_ going?'

Wessell roared with laughter. '_Noble-hearted?_ You think they're _noble-hearted?_ You don't get out much, do you? Do you realise what they've been up to?' He began to list every disaster that had happened in the surrounding countries over the past few years, which, according to him, were all the fault of my new friends.

I suspected that Wessell wasn't telling the whole truth, but on the other hand, I didn't know enough to tell him he was wrong. All I knew was how horribly easy it was to bring a disaster on a town without meaning to. 'I feel kinship with them,' I said.

Right on cue, the group rushed in, now accompanied by an old man who looked as if he might be another wizard. The half-elf had his arms tied, and Kriv was taking care to stand between him and the old wizard, as if he was afraid that the half-elf might attack.

'Didn't I tell you?' sneered Wessell. 'I knew you'd come to save your friend.'

'Who says she's our friend?' retorted Kos.

'Well, you're _my_ friends, at any rate,' I said. 'I'm just sorry to have…'

Bobbynock fired a bolt of lightning at Wessell, and everyone began fighting. There was a sound like a thunderclap, and something faster than an arrow flew from one of the _gonnes_ in the crates, and pierced Kos's armoured scales.

I heaved my shoulders as far as I could, and managed to burst my ropes apart. Feeling somewhat amazed that this had actually worked, I looked around the room to try to see if I could spot any weapons or armour. Of course, there was no good reason why my own plate mail or my mace should have been there – while I had been ill, Emmrietta had kept anything I could hurt myself with out of reach, and even if I'd had them with me, my attackers would hardly have brought them to my prison. But Wessell seemed the kind of man who loves to taunt and gloat, so it was always worth a try. Admittedly, I'm so short-sighted that I probably wouldn't have seen them even if they had been there. As it was, I couldn't think of anything sensible to do, so ran towards my group of friends.

'_Run!_' shouted Kriv, making his way to the warehouse door. He held it open as first Bobbynock, then the half-elf, and finally the human wizard, Kos and I ran out into the street, where the snow had been trampled into dirty, slippery slush. I glanced as Kos to see whether he needed any help, but he seemed to have managed to heal himself. I didn't know much about warlock powers, but his seemed effective – or maybe it was Lathander working in him.

We hadn't run far before we heard another set of footsteps following us. More men – not Wessell's ruffians this time, but the Watch. Kriv hastily explained to them that we weren't criminals, and, on the contrary, were escaping from criminals.

'They're good people,' I said. 'They cut my finger off…'

'Why did you do that?' said one of the watchmen suspiciously. 'She's a nice lady, after all.'

'Because I asked them to,' I managed to finish. 'I'd been caught by a ring that was causing this terrible winter and refusing to let me take it off.'

After Kriv, who had been Captain of the King's Guard in his home town of Elventower ('Though he's currently suspended,' Kos muttered to me) had talked to the Nyth Watch for a while, they relented, and agreed to escort us to the Mansion.

'What mansion?' I whispered to Bobbynock, as we made our way there.

'It's outside this dimension,' he explained. 'A magical, extra-dimensional mansion where we might finally get some rest.'

And this is what we're now doing. This place has everything, including warm, soft beds. I shouldn't need luxury, but it's wonderful to be able to feel warm and comfortable after being a frozen wreck for so long. I said I'd go straight to bed, and I meant to go to sleep after writing a few notes to try to make sense of how suddenly and bizarrely my life has turned around. It's taken longer than I expected – writing is slower when I have to get used to resting the pen against a different finger, and I also needed to twist a piece of wire I'd found into a makeshift rising-sun symbol.

I think the others assume I'm asleep now, because they're starting to talk more unguardedly. I overheard Kos's voice – 'So, Rothgar, are you going to tell her you arranged for your clone to replace you as king so you could run off and have adventures? Paladins are terribly Lawful, she won't like _that!_' and Rothgar's, in response – 'Yeah right, and are _you_ going to tell her that until yesterday, you were an arbiter of Shub-Niggurath, and were planning to help an evil cat nekomancer open a Gate?'

I suppose if I were truly Lawful, I'd return to Nyth, confess what I'd done, and – if the people of Nyth forgave me – help them to fight the remainder of the zombies, and try to restore the church of Lathander. But still – Kos had presumably repented of serving the eldritch god, and he's obviously important to Lathander – so perhaps Lathander needs me to help Kos on his spiritual journey. Besides, I owe this group my life twice over – how could I refuse to help them, if they want me to come with them? If Kos needs to atone for his wrongs by defeating this 'nekomancer' – I don't even know whether that's the same as a necromancer, and I can't ask without admitting that I overheard this conversation – then I should do everything I can to help.

It's more a question of whether I _can_ help them. So far, I seem to be the most ineffectual paladin ever. In the battle in the warehouse, I didn't do anything useful. And if I'm going to learn to be a hero, I'll need to learn soon, or die.


	3. Chapter 3

It's been a while since I've had a chance to write in my journal, as life has been hectic lately. An army of thousands of orcs attacked the town, far more than we felt able to deal with. Kriv, who had wound up being by default the highest-ranking Watch officer in Nyth, tried to rally an army by promoting a city guard to Lieutenant, but it was too late. The people were rioting over everything that had happened – which was hardly surprising, with my unnatural winter, Emmrietta's defection to the service of Shub-Niggurath, the zombie attack, and now these orcs. After the rioters stabbed the new lieutenant, and orcs ate Kriv's horse, we decided there was nothing we could do except flee.

We hurried to the docks and stole a boat. I should have protested, as much about the stealing as about our cowardice, but I felt too out of my depth in the situation to do much about it. The people of the town were rushing to the harbour and throwing themselves into the sea, begging us to take them on board. The dinghy we were in wasn't big enough to carry many people, but the five of us squashed up to make room for three men, one of whom had managed to reserve a place by clinging onto Kos's leg. Mordenkainen the wizard had disappeared, which I suppose is normal behaviour for a wizard, and at least we now didn't have to worry about whatever was going on between him and Rothgar. In retrospect, perhaps we stopped worrying too soon.

I felt deeply ashamed of fleeing, and Kriv seemed to feel much the same. He was sunk in despair, unwilling to talk or to look anyone in the eye, and concentrating on rowing the boat north up the coast to try to get round the army. There were four oars, and all of us except Bobbynock, who was too small to be very effective, took turns in rowing, but Kriv refused to rest throughout the voyage, as if hard, tiring physical labour could atone for all our failures so far.

As far as we could find out, the orc leader Waaagghh and his followers had come to Nyth to use the magic circle Happy had created to transport themselves to the Dreamlands. (I still wasn't quite clear about who or what Happy was, but I was to find out shortly.) The orcs were on a quest to find an artefact, the Eye of Gruumsch, to resurrect their god Gruumsch. In the meantime, however, there seemed to be a lot of orcs stationed back in our world.

In the meantime, we needed to get to know our new companions. 'I'm Bobbynock, and I'm the leader,' explained Bobbynock.

'I'm Kos, and I'm the smartest,' added Kos with his reptilian mouth twisted into what had to be a dragonborn's version of a smirk.

Kriv said nothing.

'I'm Beira, and I'm new. I've only known these people a few days, but they're very brave,' I said. 'Rothgar, don't you want to introduce yourself?'

'No,' said Rothgar firmly.

I realised again what an idiot I had been. I had got so used to knowing who Rothgar was that I had forgotten he was travelling incognito.

The newcomers introduced themselves as Jim, Sam, and Bob. 'That's a nice name,' Bobbynock said to the human Bob, with a grin.

Jim was regarding Rothgar suspiciously. 'You're _him_, aren't you? The King of Quaffy? What are you doing here?'

'No, of course I'm not!' said Rothgar hastily.

'Of course he isn't,' Bobbynock confirmed. 'It's just a nickname Beira gave him, because he looks a bit like King Rothgar.'

'Not _very_ like him, of course,' added Kos. 'Nowhere near as good-looking.'

Fortunately, we were interrupted here by the boat rocking from side to side. Bobbynock nearly fell overboard, but Kriv managed to grab him just in time.

'I thought you knew all about boats?' teased Kos.

'_Read_ all about boats,' groaned Bobbynock. 'I've never actually _been_ on one before.' He was feeling quite badly seasick. I gave him a quick laying on of hands to make him feel better.

'I don't like the sea,' groaned Sam.

'Are you feeling seasick, too?' I asked.

'No, just scared,' said Sam miserably. 'There's _things_ living in the sea, round here.'

'Why doesn't someone tell a story, to take our minds off things?' suggested Jim, putting a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder. 'Tell us your life stories, maybe,' he added, still glancing curiously at Rothgar.

Bobbynock took a fat, leather-bound book of memoirs out of his bag. 'I'll begin at the beginning,' he said. 'I was born…'

'No, not there!' snapped Kos. 'We don't want to hear again about your earliest memories and how you grew up wanting to be a wizard. Get onto the adventures!'

'Well, we once saved a city from a dragon,' said Bobbynock. 'Greywing the Great was once part of the Talons of Power, before the humans were corrupted and…'

'Are we there yet?' interrupted Kos.

'No!' snapped Kriv.

'So, did you have to protect the city from the silver dragon?' I asked, puzzled. I'm not an expert on wildlife, but I had thought that metallic dragons were usually friendly to humanoids.

'It was years ago,' said Bobbynock. 'Back then, it was Rothgar and me, a high elf called Eru, and Gregor – he was a cleric of Halor…'

'He was _so_ stupid, wasn't he?' put in Rothgar.

'Well, he'd have to be, to decide to come with us,' pointed out Bobbynock.

'What species was Gregor?' I asked.

'He was a human, like you,' said Bobbynock. 'Well, first of all, we had to take care of some kobolds…'

'Was that "take care of" as in "look after" or "kill"?' I interrupted.

'As in killing them,' Bobbynock confirmed.

'Well, would you mind _saying_ "kill"?' I asked. 'I know it's pedantic, but I hate euphemisms – they make it so hard to tell people's real intentions. After all, we're supposed to be taking care of our guests here, and that doesn't mean we're going to kill them, does it?'

The newcomers, especially Sam, looked even more worried than before.

'Well, anyway,' said Bobbynock, 'the kobolds were holding a baby dragon captive in their camp. The baby's older sister was standing outside, crying – lucky you weren't with us then, Kos, or you'd probably have hit her…'

'But I thought Kos liked dragons?' I said. 'He's got a pet dragon, after all.'

'Yeah, but Sophie was disguised as a human,' Bobbynock explained. 'Anyway, we rescued Miadorus – the baby dragon – and killed the kobolds, but their leader got away – the one in gold armour.'

'Are we there yet?' asked Kos again.

'Look around you!' retorted Kriv. 'We're in the middle of the ocean! Obviously we're not there yet!'

'It was around that time that we first met Happy – and he really _was_ quite happy and friendly, back in those days. You see, in order to work in Elventower, we had to join a guild. I wanted to join the Mages' Guild, but we took a vote as a group and voted to join the Adventurers' Guild. It was a bit down on its luck, and this talking cat, Happy, who was an important member of the guild, gave us the task of going into the Crypt of the Necromancer – this was before it was called the Crypt of the Nekomancer, remember – to look for Happy's friend Gramalin...'

'What species was Gramalin?' I asked. I know it's racist to keep on obsessing about people's species, but when people are talking about people I've never met, it's helpful to have some kind of mental picture of them.

'He was an elf,' said Bobbynock. 'He was a member of the Adventurers' Guild, and he was Happy's best friend, and he'd gone into the tomb and not returned. It turned out that he'd been killed and turned into a zombie, so we had to kill him again – not that we told Happy that part of the story. Anyway, we met a fairy dragon called Navi who insisted on turning Eru into a cat, over and over again – once he even did it when we were in the middle of a battle with some zombies. And Mr Who went absolutely mental…'

'You're saying _you're_ not mental?' interrupted Kos.

Bobbynock ignored him and carried on with the story. 'Anyway, we found a crazed necromancer praying to an idol of Shub-Niggurath. We killed him and took his book, and for once we did the sensible thing and _didn't_ try to read it. We took it back to the Guild and explained to Happy that Gramalin was dead – and then, of course, the next thing we knew, Happy had stolen the book and read it in the hope of finding a spell that could bring Gramalin back to life. He succeeded, but it cost him his sanity.

'Well, in the meantime, we went with Greywing the Great, the mother of Sophie and Miadorus, to her mountain. The three of them are the last three of the silver dragons…'

'Are we there yet?' repeated Kos again, who clearly knew this story by heart and was bored with it. Nobody bothered to answer, so he switched to making odd, dragonish sounds with his scaly cheeks. Bob, Jim, Sam and I glared at him.

'_You_ may not want to hear the story, but _I_ do,' Jim pointed out.

'So do I,' I said.

Kriv was busy staring down into the water at the side of the boat. 'There's something big down there,' he said.

'Can I have a go at fishing?' asked Rothgar. 'Have we got anything to fish with?'

'Not a good idea,' said Kriv. 'We need to head for the shore.'

Something odd flickered, and then something huge erupted out of the boat, grabbed Jim and hauled him overboard.

'Everyone to the centre of the boat!' shouted Kriv.

We obeyed, except for Sam, who screamed, 'Didn't help Jim much!' and rushed to the stern of the boat. Kriv grabbed the human in his strong, scaly arms and pulled him back.

'What? Where's Jim?' said Rothgar, puzzled.

'The sea monster ate him!' we all shouted.

Rothgar blinked. 'What sea monster?'

'Roth – valiant half-elf who looks like King Rothgar,' I said, trying to be tactful about this, 'have you ever thought that there might be a curse on you?'

'What? Why would there be a curse on me?'

'Well, it's just that I've noticed that your friends have to keep you tied up sometimes – look, would you let me cast Remove Curse on you? After all, if there isn't one, it can't do any harm, and if there is a curse that you're not aware of, it might help, mightn't it?'

'Well, if it makes you feel better,' Rothgar conceded, and I cast the spell. I wasn't sure whether it had worked, but it had to be worth a try.

'Does anyone know what that monster is?' Kriv asked.

Bobbynock thought about it for a moment. 'I'm pretty sure it's a kraken,' he said. 'I remember reading about them.'

The kraken groped another tentacle over the boat. We did our best to deter it – Kos trying to use a mind-control spell to persuade it to leave us alone, Bobbynock casting a ray of frost, and I hitting it with my mace – but it snatched Bob and disappeared underwater again. Kriv, Kos, Sam and I rowed as hard as we could for land, with Bobbynock conjuring an illusion of regular drum-beats to keep us in rhythm.

When the tentacle appeared again, it wasn't just groping for a single person, but doing its best to smash the boat apart. Bobbynock shocked it with a lightning bolt, and this at last seemed to hurt the creature enough to make it leave us alone – or perhaps, having eaten two people, it decided it wasn't hungry enough to bother fighting us for now. Sam was pale and shaking, but pulled on his oar as hard as he could – whether because he was desperate to reach land, or because he was afraid we might throw him to the kraken, I couldn't tell.

Somewhere in the midst of all this confusion, I realised that we had a wolf in the boat with us. He was obviously tame, considering the way he was letting Rothgar stroke his head and scratch behind his ears, so I wasn't going to panic, but I couldn't help wondering how even I had been unobservant enough not to notice him before. I hoped Sam wouldn't panic.

'Did we have a – dog with us when we got on this boat?' I asked.

'What? Oh, you mean Diefenbaker,' said Rothgar. 'No, he was dead, but I summoned him back to the realms of the living. I usually end up killing him. Anyway, do you want to hear the rest of our story?'

'Yes, please,' I said. Sam was too miserable over the deaths of his friends to say anything.

'Where was I?' Bobbynock leafed through his memoirs. 'Ah, yes – Greywing took us to her mountain…'

'And what about the time she tried to eat me?' protested Kriv.

'That was later!' said Bobbynock. 'Anyway, Greywing was a member of the Talons of Justice, which was part of the alliance of good metallic dragons protecting the world from the evil chromatic dragons. But the red dragons had bribed the humans to give them some information which enabled them to kill all the gold dragons and virtually all the silvers. Greywing and her children are probably the only three silver dragons left in the world now, and they're in hiding.'

I listened eagerly, trying not to be distracted by Kos and Rothgar, who were bored and bickering with each other. Bobbynock told how in another adventure, where they were again 'taking care of' the kobolds who were attacking a now, the alleged innkeeper who was supposed to be taking care of _them_ had fed them drugged food to enable the kobolds to capture them. 'And that was Jeremy Wessell, of course,' said Bobbynock. 'Pretending to be an innkeeper, the same as he did when he was spying on us in Nyth, leading up to kidnapping you, Beira. Same old shtick, again and again.

'What happened next? Oh, yes – we met a red dragon, Xiembir, who was looking for a fire ring that gave power over fire. The ring was part of Tiamat's soul…'

I felt icy cold all over again as I realised what was going on. 'And – was that what my ice ring was, too?' I asked. 'Another piece of the evil dragon-god's soul?'

'That's right,' said Bobbynock, but at least he didn't stop for recriminations. 'Well, I managed to get the fire ring – though I lost it when I was killed, a bit later on. But for now, we had two important artefacts: the fire ring, and a map. We made it back to Elventower, and we were warned to keep them safe. But then Lolth, the Spider Queen, sent a tiefling to force me to reveal their location, and of course when I'd done that, the tiefling killed me.'

'What was it like, being dead?' I asked.

'Horrible,' said Bobbynock with a shudder. 'All the time I was dead, the agents of Shub-Niggurath were influencing me.'

So that makes at least three evil gods who we know are working against us: Shub-Niggurath, the Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young; Tiamat, the five-headed dragon god worshipped by the chromatic dragons; and Lolth the Spider Queen, goddess of the drow (and also worshipped by purple dragons). Not that I'm frightened by any of this – fighting against evil is my job, and paladins are immune to fear. But it's something to bear in mind.

We haven't been able to find anywhere we can actually land and walk ashore, but as I write this, at least we're travelling across shallow enough water to be out of the kraken's reach. So I'm writing up these notes as I take a break from rowing.


	4. Chapter 4

After three days of rowing (in both pronunciations, if you count the continual bickering between Kos and Rothgar), we found somewhere it was possible to land. There was nothing but desert, with no towns or even an oasis or a spring within sight, but Sam leapt out of the boat as soon as it bumped against the sand, splashed through the shallow water to the shore, fell on his face and kissed the sand. By this stage, I wasn't sure whether he was more terrified of the voyage or of us. (Strictly speaking, I should be able to make those around me immune from fear, too – but in Sam's case, I suppose his firm grasp on reality overrode anything I might be able to do to encourage him.)

It was about 6pm by now, and the sun was just coming down the sky. 'Walking from here isn't going to do much good,' said Kriv, after a short look around. 'We could get back in the boat and row on for a few more hours before it gets dark.'

We were all starting to agree that yes, that wasn't a bad idea when there was another odd flicker, like the one in the boat earlier. We shrugged it off as a trick of the light, walked back to the boat and prepared to climb in (except Rothgar, who had stayed to guard the boat anyway), when we noticed that the boat had holes in it – not the wreckage that the kraken's tentacles might have dealt, splitting the boat asunder, but holes that looked as if someone had poked fingers through the wood. I noticed Rothgar gazing at his long, slender fingers and comparing them with the holes in the boat – holes too small for my sturdy fingers, let alone a dragonborn's talons, and too big to be the work of Bobbynock's little hands, but just right for a half-elf's fingers. He examined his fingertips, established that they weren't torn or splintered, and looked back at the holes again, frowning.

'Rothgar,' I said quietly, trying not to let the others overhear, 'I know you wouldn't sabotage our own boat deliberately – any more than I brought a blizzard on Nyth intentionally. But do you think someone could have been using you to damage the boat, without your knowing?'

'What? No, I'm sure it isn't that,' said Rothgar distractedly. 'It might've been my double, I suppose.'

If there was a curse on Rothgar, I'm not convinced that my attempts to remove it worked.

'Does anyone have any idea how far it is to the nearest town?' I asked. 'Is anyone good at geography?'

Bobbynock shrugged. 'Kriv, do you know?'

'He should do!' said Kos, laughing. 'He's a pirate, after all.'

'I was an honest sea-captain!' retorted Kriv indignantly. 'It's – hmmm – about two weeks' walk through the desert, to get to Quaffy. Or we can walk three or four days back to Nyth.'

'I feel bad about abandoning Nyth,' I said. 'I was sent there to do some good, after all.'

Kriv snorted with annoyance at himself. 'I was wrong – I wasn't thinking straight, in this heat. It may have taken us only three days to come here by boat, but it'll be about two weeks' walk back to Nyth _or_ to Quaffy, over terrain like this.'

'Heat doesn't bother me,' said Kos smugly. 'I'm descended from a white ice dragon.' So, even though Kos's ancestors would have preferred to live in the Arctic or on frozen mountaintops, he seems to be able to keep himself cool wherever he goes. Ice dragons also tend to be evil, which explains a lot about Kos, really – I ought to be impressed that he's managed to overcome heredity as far as he has, instead of blaming him for not being better. Kriv, who is descended from a bronze dragon (who are traditionally honourable and law-abiding), was drooping in the desert heat, so Kos blew a cold breath to relieve him. Mr Who was flapping his wings to fan Bobbynock, and I didn't mind the heat – I'm still just glad to be able to be warm after my encounter with the ice ring.

'_Two weeks?_' moaned Sam. 'What are we going to do about food? Can we eat the gnome? Where are we going to find water? Can we turn the gnome into water?'

'We'd better send the familiars to search for food,' said Bobbynock. 'Mr Who and the dragon can fly, and Diefenbaker's a pretty good hunter. If there are any lizards or anything around, he can find them.'

'I can see something circling in the distance,' said Rothgar. 'Vultures, I think.'

'So there must be something living in the desert, if there's prey for vultures,' said Bobbynock.

'They might be eating people like us who've tried to walk through the desert and _died_,' I put in, starting to catch Sam's hysteria. 'Maybe we should try to get to the carrion and eat it before the vultures do? Maybe that'd be easier than trying to hunt something.'

'I'm a pretty good shot,' Kos pointed out. 'So are Bobbynock and Kriv. We shouldn't have any trouble shooting down a vulture.'

'That's a better idea,' I admitted, calming down. 'At least they'll be fresh.'

'And I don't want to write in my memoirs that I've eaten people,' added Bobbynock.

'Can't we eat the gnome?' repeated Sam.

'He's like a desert for me,' said Kos, his Draconic accent making him mispronounce the word before he corrected it to, 'I mean, a dessert.'

We argued for a bit longer, until Sam fell to the ground, unconscious with dehydration. I knelt beside him in the scorching sand and laid my hands on him to revive him, and Kriv held a waterskin to the man's parched lips. With me supporting his head so that he could drink, Sam gulped down about half the contents of the waterskin.

We tried foraging for whatever food and water might be around. Rothgar managed to find a nest of five small eggs, which there was no tactful way to split between six people and a wolf. Apart from these, we had some rations in reserve. If we lived on half-rations, it was barely enough to feed six people and a wolf for twelve days – and expecting to walk across the desert on half-rations sounded ambitious.

'What about the dragon and Mr Who?' I asked. 'Don't they need feeding, too?'

'No, they're magical creatures – we can just conjure them away,' explained Kos. 'The wolf is more of a nature-y thing.' I wonder whether Rothgar sometimes forgets to feed Diefenbaker, too, though, and whether this is why the wolf apparently keeps on dying and having to be summoned back from the afterlife.

Suddenly, Rothgar put a finger to his lips. 'Ssshh, everyone!' he hissed. 'Do you see those?' Looking across the desert, we could make out a series of craters, each around ten feet wide. 'The burrows of giant sandworms,' Rothgar explained in a whisper. 'We'll have to keep as quiet as we can. Those beasts are huge and dangerous, and they're also very sensitive. So don't go calling them names!' he added with a grin – but we could all see that the sandworms were no joke.

'Hey, Sam, you're worried about lack of food?' said Kos. 'Want to help us catch a sandworm? If you walk up to the entrance to lure it out, the rest of us can catch it, and we'll share the meat. Okay?'

'No!' whimpered Sam.

'Why should he have to be the bait?' I demanded angrily. 'How dare you treat him like this? He's our _guest_, for Lathander's sake! Why can't someone else go first? Who's best at hunting? Who's best at fighting? Why shouldn't someone who can defend himself go, instead of just pushing Sam into danger because he's not one of our gang?'

While I was berating Kos and the others, and Sam was sobbing in terror, nobody else paid much attention until their eyes suddenly focused on something just behind me. Turning, I saw a robed figure who seemed to be holding something small, concealed in his hand. He smiled at Kriv. 'Hello,' he said. 'It's been a while.'

'It has,' said Kriv, sounding bewildered. 'Uh – can you give me a name?'

The figure threw something down which landed in the sand beside Kriv, and then vanished. His disappearance reminded me of Mordenkainen, but his face and voice hadn't sounded particularly like the human wizard – though I suppose wizards can probably disguise themselves at will.

Diefenbaker sniffed at the object half-buried in the sand, and scraped aside the sand with his paw so that we could identify it. It was a ring, which didn't seem encouraging.

'Be careful!' I warned. 'Nobody put it on until we're sure what it does!'

'I'm trying to think who that man was,' said Kriv. 'He looks like the guy who gave me my sword.'

'I can't stand it any longer!' wailed Sam. 'Krakens and sandworms and magic rings – I'm getting out of here!'

'Look,' said Kriv, 'be rational about this. Come with us, and you've got rations, protection, a bunch of experienced guys. Leave, and you're stuck in the desert on your own.'

'No!' screamed Sam. 'I can't stay with you!'

'All right, how about this for a deal?' suggested Rothgar, and he drew his sword and held it to Sam's throat. 'Come with us or die!'

At this point, Sam's nerve failed, and so did his bowels. Rothgar, wrinkling his delicate elven nose at the smell, took out a piece of rope to try to tie Sam up (the same rope that Rothgar himself had been restrained with earlier), but Sam swung at Rothgar with his bare hands, and, amazingly, managed to knock Rothgar's sword out of his hand. Rothgar punched at Sam, and they both went down, rolling over each other and pummelling each other frantically. They were rolling towards the sandworms' holes, kicking and yelling and making so much noise that even the deafest of sandworms couldn't have failed to notice them.

'I hate you!' Kos shouted at Rothgar. 'I hate you most from this group!'

'Wow – he doesn't hate _me_ the most!' exclaimed Bobbynock happily.

'_You're_ just annoying,' growled Kos.

'Shouldn't I run and help them fight the sandworm?' I suggested. 'It could take all of us to defeat it.'

'_And_ more!' said Kriv. 'The whole team of us wouldn't stand a chance.'

I didn't care. I raced towards the sandworm tunnels, colliding as I did so with Rothgar, who was running back to the group after abandoning Sam. Before I had a chance to get near, a huge purple worm reared its head out of its tunnel and swallowed Sam before retreating inside to digest its meal. There was nothing I could do now – and after all, I took oath to protect the vulnerable, not to take revenge (whether on the sandworm or on my companions). Now that Sam was dead, I needed to get back to the group – which wasn't easy, as the sand around me was already sliding down towards the sandworm's pit. I managed to haul myself onto firmer ground, and ran back to the rest of the group.

It was starting to grow dark by now, but at least it was cooler, and walking was easier. It wasn't easy moving stealthily around the wormholes with the little light afforded by the moon and stars, but with Rothgar's and Bobbynock's good night vision, and Kos using magic to fly above us and look out for holes, we made a good few miles before it grew too cold to walk any more. We put up our tent, which was surprisingly warm and cosy.

'I cast a warming spell on it,' Bobbynock explained. 'We need to travel in the morning and evening, when the temperature's comfortable. When it gets too hot, we'll put up the tent again and I'll cast a cooling spell. And it's sand-coloured, too, for camouflage.'

'Wouldn't colouring it black be more help, at night?' grumbled Kos.

'Why should it?' I said. 'If it's sand-coloured, it's camouflaged in the daytime when we need it, and at night, it'll be as dark as everything else in the desert.'

'Do you know what the ring is?' Kriv asked.

Bobbynock examined it, and his face lit up with pleasure. 'It's a spell-storage ring,' he announced. 'And one of the spells stored on it is one to teleport up to six beings to the place where it came from, which is – _yes!_ – Elventower.'

'No. And I don't remember most of it anyway. My memory keeps getting wiped.'

A ring to transport six of us – so if Sam had survived, one of us would have needed to stay behind (not counting the magical familiars, who didn't need the ring's powers). Probably we should have left Rothgar's wolf behind and hoped he could fend for himself, but I'd have felt strongly tempted to leave Rothgar or Kos. Then again, they probably feel the same way about me.

'So, should we get some sleep first, or go there straight away?' I asked. 'You know more about Elventower than I do – are we safer here in the desert, or there?'

Kos laughed. 'With _them,_' (he waved his talons at the rest of the group) 'there's no such thing as "safe"!'

'It certainly wasn't safe for Sam!' I said indignantly. 'If Rothgar hadn't intimidated him until he fled…'

'We all have free will,' said Kos smugly. 'He decided to stay in the desert rather than come with us.'

'Yes, and what about _our_ free will?' I demanded. 'We could have chosen to treat him decently, and then he wouldn't have run away!'

'He made that decision of his own free will…' Kos repeated, and winced. He rubbed at his mark of Lathander as if it was stinging.

Everyone else is asleep now, and it's time I got some sleep, too. At least we don't have to be up early tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

So, this morning we got up and teleported to Elventower, and arrived in the office of a wizard who, not surprisingly, wasn't pleased to see a gaggle of random people including one complete stranger turning up out of the blue.

'Oh, uh, hello Rad,' said Kriv. 'This is Beira. She's a bit argumentative, but – well, she's one of us.'

'Did you have to come in at this hour – and without even a Sending to warn me first?' growled Rad. 'And what is _that?_' he added, pointing at the mark on Kos's forehead.

'Kos is the chosen envoy of Lathander…' I began.

'Yes, all right, all right!' snapped Rad. 'I've got a drow loose in the city, I haven't got time for all this now! Please, just go away and let me get on with my work!'

'What's this about a drow?' said Kriv sharply.

'I've got to catch her and find out what she knows and what she's up to!'

'What are you going to do to her if you find her?' asked Kriv, concerned.

'Whatever it takes,' said Rad grimly. 'Now, all of you…'

'You three, wait outside,' said Kriv, waving to Rothgar, Bobbynock and me. 'We're staying.'

We went out into the corridor outside the office, Diefenbaker padding obediently alongside Rothgar. 'Where are we?' I asked. 'And what was all that about? And who's the man we were talking to?'

'Rad is the head of the College of Mages,' explained Rothgar.

'So he's your…' I began, turning to Bobbynock, and realised he wasn't there. I caught sight of him hurrying down the corridor just before he turned a corner. 'He's Bobbynock's boss? And where's Bobbynock going, anyway?' I wasn't entirely comfortable about being alone with Rothgar, but it seemed safest to keep the conversation going, so as not to give Rothgar time to get any odd ideas.

'At an informed guess, going to look things up in the library,' said Rothgar. 'He might be a while.' Diefenbaker, clearly having already come to that conclusion, had settled down and gone to sleep on the elaborately tiled corridor floor.

'Rad is a very great wizard indeed,' Rothgar continued. 'He was part of a plan to kill Lolth, the Spider Queen. It failed, and it took Rad's three closest friends, even Dresden. Teethee was corrupted by Lolth into killing Bobbynock. Morthos was the third, but he might be still alive. Lolth likes to toy with her prey, you see.'

I could well imagine. 'What species were Dresden and Teethee and Morthos?' I asked.

'They were all drow,' said Rothgar. 'Three good drow.'

'So, Rad isn't the sort of person who automatically hates all drow?' I said. I know most people distrust the dark elves, but after knowing Nutt, a good orc who was brought up by a fairly good vampire, I could never assume that someone's species defines them. (I know that, as a paladin of Lathander, I shouldn't tolerate the undead, or be friends with anyone who does. But Nutt's mentor, Lady Margolotta, isn't a bloodsucker, and has inspired a number of other vampires to give up drinking the blood of sentient life-forms. Perhaps Nutt is more willing to fight evil vampires precisely _because_ he knows that vampires don't _have_ to be evil?)

'Not drow who are his friends. But the fact is that most drow _are_ worshippers of Lolth, and Rad's likely to use some pretty harsh methods on Xanthia – if that's who the drow he's looking for is – to find out what she knows. That's why the dragonborn will be trying to make sure he doesn't go too far.'

'What's Xanthia like?' I asked.

'Just a person. Just a drow trying to make it in Elventower. Bit of a con artist, but she's more or less a friend of ours. Admittedly, Kos tried to kill her, but then he rescued her cat, Miki. You see, Happy created Miki to be a minion of his, and then he'd broken free of Happy's control, and Happy was stealing him back when Kos rescued him. So Xanthia's grateful to us, and Kriv…'

But at this moment, the two dragonborn emerged from the office. Kriv rolled his yellow reptilian eyes. 'Don't tell me – Bobbynock's gone to the library.' We nodded. 'Well, we can't wait for him. We've got to go and see the King.'

'And about time, too!' exclaimed a new voice, and we saw that we had been joined by a human army officer in late middle age.

'Oh, hello, Major,' said Kriv.

'Couldn't you have come any sooner?!' demanded the Major. 'All this trouble, non-humans all over the place – especially gnomes, they're the worst!'

'What's wrong with gnomes?' I demanded indignantly. 'Don't be speciesist!'

'I'm not very human, either,' Kriv pointed out.

The Major considered this, as if he was so used to trusting Kriv as a friend that he had ceased to notice that Kriv was covered in scales, had talons instead of fingers, and could breathe lightning bolts. 'You're one of the good ones,' he said finally.

'So's Bobbynock!' I pointed out. 'I'm not sure about Kos, though,' I admitted.

Kos himself had set off on some project of his own, so Kriv led Rothgar, Diefenbaker and me to the King's palace. The guards on duty recognised Rothgar and led us into the throne room at once. I haven't got much time to describe the palace, but in any case, what I mostly noticed was the face of the King himself. He looked kind, and solemn, and like someone I would like to have the chance to get to know better. He was human, and had with him a human attendant, apparently some sort of bodyguard, who was dressed in rather finer robes and jewellery than the King himself. Kriv glared at this man, who smirked back at him.

We knelt down before the King, until he urged us to rise. 'I'm sorry it's been so long, my liege,' said Kriv. 'Nyth has been ground to dust.'

The King sighed deeply. 'So the reports are true! Can I help in any way?'

'I don't think you can,' said Kriv sadly. 'It's been overrun by an army of eight thousand orcs, and it had already been destroyed by zombies before that.'

'Your envoys were successful, my liege,' the King said to Rothgar. 'We have struck a deal that will benefit both our cities.'

Rothgar blinked. 'What? When was that?' Understandably, he had been too caught up in our adventures to keep track of what his double was doing back in Quaffy. Personally, I was more puzzled as to why a king would address a fellow king as 'my liege', which I had always thought was a way of addressing one's superior.

'A few days ago,' the King said.

'Oh – uh – yes, of course, _those_ envoys – sorry, I'm getting forgetful in my old age,' said Rothgar hastily. I don't know how old Rothgar actually is, though I know half-elves don't live to the great ages that pure-bred elves do, but as he doesn't look at all elderly, I wasn't sure how he thought he was going to get away with that excuse.

Still, the King didn't press the point. 'Quite, quite,' he said. 'Is your sister well, by the way? I've heard she hasn't been seen around court for a few days.'

'Oh – uh, yes, she's – just taking some time out to meditate,' stammered Rothgar.

'And will you have the kindness to introduce me to your lovely friend?' asked the King, smiling.

'Oh, yes, this is Diefenbaker, my wolf,' said Rothgar. 'He's a good pet, very well trained, completely tame.'

'This is Beira Lightbringer,' said Kriv. 'A paladin of Lathander.'

I bowed, and held out my hand for the King to shake. He took it in his warm, strong hand, without so much as flinching at my missing finger.

'Could I offer you a job, honourable paladin? The Dawnmaster at the Temple in our city has recently died, and the church here doesn't really have anyone suitable to take over from him. Would you be interested in taking over his position?'

'Well, uh – it's a very kind offer,' I said. 'Can I have twenty-four hours to think it over?'

'By all means,' said the King. 'And now, Kriv, I need your help with reining in Rad. I'm convinced he's mad, and he's causing a lot of trouble, but it would never do to hang my court wizard.'

'I will do my best, my lord, but I can't make any promises,' said Kriv. 'The man is obsessed, and that's all there is to it.'

'And finally,' said the King, 'will you remove this – _person_ – from my presence?'

Kriv took hold of the guard by the collar of his robe and led him out of the throne room. I heard him growling to the man, 'You seem to have done well for yourself since I left – but not so well for the king, or for the city,' and the man retorting threateningly that he had 'made many useful contacts' and Kriv should be careful not to upset him. Apparently he used to be Kriv's lieutenant – and thinking about that makes me remember the poor watchman whom Kriv promoted to be his lieutenant in Nyth, who was killed so soon afterwards. I like Kriv, but it seems that a lot of people who encounter this group either die (Kriv's lieutenant in Nyth, and Jim, Bob, and Sam) or are corrupted or driven mad (this lieutenant, Happy, and poor Emmrietta, whom I still miss). Looking at it that way, the offer of giving up my brief attempt at adventuring and accepting a temple job in Elventower is very tempting.

I've prayed to Lathander for guidance, but he didn't give any clear answer. But that doesn't mean that Lathander isn't listening or responding, just because his guidance isn't obvious – just as the dawn still occurs whether we see the sun rising on a clear day, or just notice that the clouds have turned to a lighter shade of grey. I think it means that Lathander wants me to work out the answer for myself, from what I have already learnt.

One thing I do know is that a paladin should never shrink from danger or from a challenge – and especially not from a duty. If Lathander sent me into Kos's life just after marking Kos as his envoy, probably he wants me to do what I can to be a good influence on Kos and his companions. I may not have been very (all right, at all) effective so far, and they probably just see me as a silly, sentimental middle-aged woman who doesn't understand the realities of adventuring, but that just means that I need to try harder. I must not give in until this adventure kills me – and, if they want me back, perhaps not even then.


End file.
